Interrogation
by Ficalicious
Summary: Does Bones really want to make Booth obsolete in the interrogation room? Next in the Alphabet Series


Interrogation

**Next in the Alphabet series. Only a short one. It's been a while and I'm out of practice, PLUS I've been writing hundreds of reports so I'm all written out at the moment. School finishes next week so I will be able to spend the holidays writing more. Sorry that it's a bit rusty. I've been watching through the series again and that whole conversation with Dr Gordon Gordon about Bones wanting to make Booth obsolete in the interrogation room really struck a chord with me. They aren't mine but please do enjoy what I do with them!**

It was undeniable that he had a skill. Some indiscernible talent that she could neither learn nor manipulate to make her own. Dr Gordon Gordon had suggested that she wanted to make him obsolete, learn his talent so that she would no longer need him. But as her eyes studied him fiercely, she knew that was not the case.

The muscles of his shoulders and back rippled beneath the thin cotton of his dress shirt. His scapulae flexed against the tight straps of his holster as he placed his fists on the cold metal table and leant forward, forcing eye contact with the suspect. She could not tell if he did it on purpose, this posturing, flexing his muscles, but the perp shriveled in his chair, displaying his submission. Brennan watched closely, sitting back in her own seat, as Booth leaned further forward, a smirk on his lips, questioning. How did he know what to ask? How did he discern just what would make suspects squirm? What was it in their faces that told him what he needed to know?

She longed to see the world through Booth's eyes. Anthropologically he was an interesting specimen – conforming in many ways, and yet, an enigma. He was bound by his beliefs and the rules of the Church, and yet he had killed. He had lied. He had done all kinds of things…to protect her. He had a son out of wedlock and yet he was an amazing father.

He was also bound by the laws of the FBI, the laws that he worked so hard to uphold. And with that came the laws that he'd created between them. Catching her trailing thoughts she turned her mind back to the interrogation.

She wondered what Booth would say if he knew she was observing him so closely. He would probably be uncomfortable, especially if he knew how arousing she found him when he displayed his alpha male dominance. There was something heady in the knowledge that Booth was a strong, virile male and that he used this power to enforce what he wanted, even if it was the law. Many times she had found herself awake at night, picturing him interrogating a suspect. But somehow that image always twisted, morphed until he was interrogating _her_. Leaning over her with his biceps bulging, his piercing gaze catching hers, fingers itching to touch her. It was on those nights that she found herself a writhing mess, twisted in the sheets, desperately touching herself. And then he would be knocking on her door first thing the next morning and would notice the tell tale blush on her cheeks and choose not to say anything.

He _had_to know. Booth never missed a thing. He could read complete strangers and know exactly what they were thinking. He could push their buttons and make them talk about things they didn't even want to think about. So there was no way he could have missed her reactions to him. The subtle gestures, her body language, the quickening of her breath when his hand settled on her lower back. Even the way she said his name – all of them were indicators of her attraction to him.

And Brennan was not fool enough to deny that attraction. Of course, it was merely a biological imperative. Her body's way of saying she wanted release and it was reacting to a readily available, attractive male. But she would not consider the possibility that those feelings were something more, something deeper. That was what Booth was good at.

So yes, she wanted to learn how he read people. She wanted to be able to convince suspects to confess to her. And she wanted to be able to read Booth as well as he read her. She wanted to know if he felt the same way she did. Did his heart skip a beat when they first set eyes on one another? Did he think about her when they weren't together? Did he crave skin-to-skin contact the same way she did?

As he finally caught the perp in a lie, his body straightening to its full height, Brennan realized that unless she started to see things the way Booth saw them she would never read people the way he did. Because what Booth saw in others was not what was on the surface. Yes, he watched for facial indicators, for obvious lies, for body language, but he saw what was on the inside. She knew it was illogical, but Booth sought out the things people were hiding, and in some way, he found them.

When he turned to give her a triumphant grin Brennan returned the smile. She saw his eyes flit across her face, and _knew_he was reading her. She felt a thrill as she saw the questions burning on his lips. He wanted to interrogate _her_now. Only, he could see the answers already written in her face.


End file.
